


terminal velocity (how to fake it until you make it)

by waspfactor



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Angst, Child Neglect, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:47:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28285737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waspfactor/pseuds/waspfactor
Summary: birthdays (and by extension, christmas) are not celebrations in the akabane household.(happy birthday karma!)
Relationships: Akabane Karma & Akabane Karma's Parents
Comments: 7
Kudos: 48





	terminal velocity (how to fake it until you make it)

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas dear readers and happy birthday to karma akabane!! u little silly goose!!!!
> 
> realistically how could i not write angst for his bday. its HIM. so take some more kichirou akabane because. ive YET to get into how much i want to explore it....
> 
> [can't be a waspfactor fic without a song to go with it (this time its not vocaloid !)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rVeMiVU77wo)

On the way home from school one day, Nagisa makes a comment. “It’s pretty lucky to have your birthday on Christmas. That’s twice the celebration!”

Karma knows Nagisa and knows that the other boy means well but even that can’t stop the words from tumbling out, “I’m just lucky to be alive.”

Nagisa blinks owlishly, thrown off his rhythm. He quickly changes the subject. And it’s never mentioned again.

For birthdays (and by extension, Christmas) are not celebrations in the Akabane household. There are a painful and silent reminder that Karma comes second. Now, he won’t be as bothered, coming second, if he was second to _something._ His parents don’t have any other children, so he’s not their second favourite child. When they’re away, they split their time between work and leisure, so he’s also not second to their jobs.

His parents prefer _nothing_ to him. He is second to nothing and that makes it hurt even more. The idea that as a person, he comes second to the notion of absolute zero makes him body numbs over with diluted rage. It’s not a usual fiery flame that ignites, red and hot- it’s blue and seemingly cold. His parents are never around enough to ask but Karma knows that he was an accident, a slip up in his parent’s plan. 

For Karma Akabane, coming down to the kitchen, every 25th of December is a reminder that is he isn’t like most children. There is no tree put up, no presents to be found, no letters or cards in the post for him. On the 25th of December, Karma Akabane does not exist to the world beyond the four walls of his house.

He hides up in his room most Christmases, playing video games or maybe finishing an essay that’s due in a couple weeks. He has nothing else to do- all of his friends have _their_ Christmases to celebrate and the ones who don’t celebrate it are not exactly up there on Karma’s list of people he’d want to hang out with.

The worst year is when they do come home. Karma’s newly turned fifteen, his usual anger been nurtured and tamed by the assassination classroom he’s been taught in. So, when he hears the front door slowly creep open, Karma fears the worst. An intruder, most likely.

(It certainly wouldn’t be the first intruder he’s had on Christmas, who was swiftly dealt with a la Home Alone style)

So, Karma slinks down the stairs, knife in hand and is sorely disappointed when he’s not met with a home intruder but his parents. His mother doesn’t seem scared by the knife, but his father’s face twists with anger.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” He barks, in attempt to be scary.

It’s like water off a duck’s back to Karma. He doesn’t drop the knife. “Merry Christmas to you too.”

His mother hums, high heels clacking off the hardwood floor as she ethereally glides over to her husband, whispering something in his ear. Karma can’t make out the words, too quiet to be audible but he picks up on the Russian.

Whatever she said makes his father move over to the counter and pick up all the letters addressed to them. Karma realises too late that this was nothing but them picking up mail and his stomach lurches, bile crawling up his throat.

“Merry Christmas, Kichirou.” Is the last thing they say before the front door locks behind him.

Karma Akabane is left alone, once again.

What a shit birthday present.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://wasp-factor.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/waspfactor) :))
> 
> i hope everyone has a happy holiday!!! remember to keep safe!!!


End file.
